


In my Arms

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Grubs, Running Away, culling drones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 15:30:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/928142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His young orb-like eyes seek out her nearly fully jade eyes. "Mother..." he murmurs, "Mother Dolorosa..." his head bobs and he is asleep. <br/>A hand comes to her lips. "Mother...?" She mumbles, "Is that what I am now?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	In my Arms

Darting across the dawn landscape, her feet burn with each light-footed step. Gasping as her eyes search for shelter, the small bundle in her arms begins to mewl; "Shh..." she whispers absently. Stopping for all of a moment, she scans the desert land to see an outcropping of rocks. Blood-pusher aflutter, she sprints for the safety the large boulders will offer with the shade they give. Just as the sun comes up and around the horizon, she reaches the already shady sand beneath the rocks and scrambles to squeeze into a crevice she spots.

Safely tucked against a cool stone wall, she peaks just around the edge of the cramped hiding spot to see a drone whirring in the distance-it's looking for someone-for her. This is only her second day, hopefully, the drone will assume her dead by the coming night. Trembling with relief as the contraption disappears from view; her eyes wander to the reason she has a drone after her. It's a tiny thing-a little grub; but, he's not just any grub, he's a _mutant._ She should have culled him for his candy-red exoskeleton-or at the very least, left him to die in the midday sun. But, the jade-blood didn't, wouldn't, _couldn't_ do that to something so small, so defenseless and _innocent_.

Bitterly, she thinks maybe her latent jade-blood instincts are finally showing themselves. And here she thought she'd always look upon grubs and only think how ugly their fat, colorful bodies were, how eerie their beady eyes were and how disgusting their drooling was. But, no, not any longer. She'd looked once upon this one in a million grub and instantly felt a connection like no other. Tickling the soft underside of the candy-red grub, she draws out a gurgle from the quiet grub. "I've never seen a grub be so quiet," she whispers to the little fellow. It coos at her and she grins. Maybe like had called to like? The physical mutant to the mental one? She, who was so reserved in temperament to her open counterparts, her indifference to grubs where near most jade-bloods bordered on indulgent. She who sought intellectual pursuits while the others sought social relationships amongst one another.

Shaking her head, the troll lifts the grub above her and whispers, "What should I call you, hm?"

It only wriggles it's stubby black legs at her. Chuckling, the jade-blood cocks her head. "I'd call you Candy, but that seems rather feminine, does it not?" she implores, drawing a low trill from the grub. Bringing it close for a cuddle, she hums quietly. "Carmine...what do you think of Carmine?" She questions. The infant chirrups easily, snuggling in to the spot between her shoulder and neck. "And Carmine it shall be," she decides. She watches the grub for a while, occasionally brushing a hand through his thicket of hair as he dozes against her; at some point, she falls asleep as well.

* * *

Caring for a single grub proves more difficult than caring for a horde of them. The troll thinks it just might be because she has no one to help her, there is no back up if she doesn't feel like it, or is ill, or simply tired. It's not even that Carmine is a difficult grub, no, he's quiet; he never wanders far and seems happiest just to be in her hands. What upsets her is that he _doesn't_ screech, growl, or hiss, that he never gnashes his teeth at her or even attempt to scratch her. Near ready to dissolve into tears, she wonders if she'd been more studious; would she know how to deal with such a strange grub? Part of her still doubts that her instructors would have anymore clue than she does now, but another part of her wants it to be so; wants to believe they would-if only so she can feel bitter that she ever decided to runaway. Staring down at her gurgling grub, she sniffles and cuddles Carmine to her cheek; he clicks happily pressing closer.

Giving a water chuckle, she whispers, "I am sorry I ever wished I left you to die."

* * *

His molting comes suddenly. It's quick and painful. Carmine-maybe for the first time-screams and growls, gnashes his teeth and attempts to scratch her. The jade-blood feels awful that she has no sopor to put him in, to ease the pain. He cries watered down red and looks at her so pleadingly to end the pain; but, she _can't_. So, the troll does her best to give him comfort by keeping him in her arms where she rubs his nubby little horns, and paps his small face. The molting lasts a week and it's not only Carmine who's exhausted at the end, but even though she is both worn mentally and physically; the jade-blood smiles at her charge.

"Look how you've grown my Carmine," she whispers, "You'll be my age in no time..." she fades off at this, she isn't even that _old_ ; she's not even eight sweeps. His new fingers grasp for her short strands; tangling in them easily. Sighing, she brushes a hand down his bare neck and back. "We'll have to get you some clothes, won't we my wriggler?" She whispers.

His young orb-like eyes seek out her nearly fully jade eyes. "Mother..." he murmurs, "Mother Dolorosa..." his head bobs and he is asleep.

A hand comes to her lips. "Mother...?" She mumbles, "Is that what I am now?" Gently tossing her head side to side, she meanders over to Carmine's pile and tucks him inside it. "Mother," she utters, testing the taste and sound. It's both soft and formal, she likes it. "I am a mother..." she can't hold back the smile that blooms on her face. She is a mother. She is the mother of this grub before her. This perfect little grub...finger petting his pudgy cheek she feels her eyes crinkle. "You are my son," she tells him.

Taking his tiny new hand, she holds it throughout the day.


End file.
